


Love Me Do

by requestables (orphan_account)



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Arguments, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 06:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20059753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/requestables
Summary: "I don't love you anymore!"Five words Paul didn't expect to hear, five words John didn't expect to say.





	Love Me Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [legalcapabilities](https://archiveofourown.org/users/legalcapabilities/gifts).

They were alone in John's house, Mimi having gone away on holiday somewhere for a week or two. 

It was in the midst of an argument when John said it. He didn’t mean it, nor did he want to say it, but it had come out in a frenzy of yelling and curse words and he hadn’t even  _ realised  _ what he had said until he saw the horrified expression on Paul’s face.

“I don’t love you anymore!” The words still echoed through his head, mocking him - his own voice saying them, what he had heard himself say but didn’t think it through. All he could see was Paul’s hurt eyes gazing into his, tears gathering and making the younger’s eyes glaze over with the salty liquid of an impending breakdown. They were _ haunting  _ him.

He loved Paul, he loved Paul more than he had ever loved  _ anybody -  _ more than humanly possible. He didn’t mean what he said, he wasn’t thinking - he wished Paul knew this.

  
  


_ “Listen to me, John, just fucking listen!” Paul shouted, fists clenched and shaking with anger. They matched his face, which mirrored his anger, and sadness, and tiredness. He was tired, not of John, not of the band, but of the arguing that seemed to be constant, a constant stream of hate and of rage. He didn’t want their relationship to turn into something fueled by screaming - a relationship fueled by the opposite of love.  _

_ He really hadn’t anticipated what came out of John’s mouth next, words that he had dreaded for years. He’d worried and worried and worried that this would happen, that this would be true, but the argument clouded his judgement and mind so much that he didn’t even think this could happen at this moment. Not right now. Later on, not so soon. “I don’t love you anymore!” It was like being stabbed in the chest repeatedly by the person you loved the most, the hurt so fucking much - too much. Paul stared at him for a minute, feeling the tears building up but not caring whether they fell or not.  _

_ Through the pain, he could feel a dull ache of oncoming emptiness, a feeling that plagued him a bloody lot. John always helped to soothe that feeling and make it go away, but now the older was the cause - Paul didn’t know how he felt about that. Shattered. He felt as if he’d been shattered into tiny pieces like something so worthless to not even clean up or fix - like someone who was too far gone. _

_ Perhaps he was. _

  
  


He hadn’t even thought to run after Paul when the younger left, hadn’t even thought about fixing what he’d done - hurt the love of his life. Yes, that’s what he was, the  _ love of his life,  _ John would never  _ intentionally  _ hurt Paul - he never meant it, therefore it wasn’t intentional, therefore Paul shouldn’t have been upset.

_ That’s not how emotions work, dumbass,  _ John told himself, wanting to thread his fingers into his own hair and just pull, rip out his hair, and then punch the wall until his knuckles were raw and bleeding - the overwhelming anger was aimed at himself rather than anybody else.  _ He  _ had done this,  _ he  _ had caused Paul pain,  _ he  _ was at fault. He wanted to scream at himself, astral project and fucking slap himself, because  _ fuck,  _ he should have  _ thought. _

He knew that Paul was sensitive and hurt easily, yet he still said it. He still fucking said it, a blatant lie in the middle of an argument that caused way more hurt than he thought it would, and he could have  _ not said it,  _ if he’d been  _ thinking.  _ But he wasn’t.

_ Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. _

Standing still, in the same place he’d been since Paul left, John contemplated going after the younger, whom he loved more than anybody else in the entire universe, but decided against it. Still standing still, he cursed himself silently - he’d let Paul have some time alone and then the younger would come back to him like he always did, knowing that John didn’t mean it. It didn’t sound very reasonable because John was the person who caused Paul to leave, but John had zero regard for logic, basing the future on how Paul had responded and reacted in the past.

Of course he knew that the younger could react differently, but it wasn’t a very plausible explanation from the way he’d left in a hurry - he  _ would  _ come back to John. And if he didn’t, then - fuck, he had no idea what he’d do. Explode? Probably. He’d rather explode than live without Paul.

His legs finally began to move, carrying him out of the door and hopefully to Paul, there were many places he could be -  _ Strawberry Fields?  _ He probably  _ had  _ gone there. He went there to calm down when he was angry, and to lie down when he was sad - it was  _ their  _ place. He'd either be there or he had gone back to his own home, and maybe he had - he could have gone to see Mike, maybe hang out with George or somebody like that. 

_ Strawberry Fields.  _

That's where John went, looking for Paul, looking for his love. He'd been right, Paul  _ was  _ there, sitting on the ground, crying into his hands, sobs wracking his small frame. John felt another pang of guilt as he watched upon the scene, once again stood still. He had run, he had run and he didn't even realise it - he was breathing heavily, tears building up in his own eyes, trying his hardest not to drop to the ground and pull the love of his life into a tight, comforting hug.

He stayed still, swaying on his feet lightly. It seemed as if Paul hadn't noticed him yet, despite how heavy his breathing sounded and the crunching of his shoes on the ground. John felt relieved. He could start out how he wanted, now. 

"Paul?" The older asked quietly, before raising his voice when he received no reply, "Paul? I'm sorry." He tried to make it sound as sincere as possible, because he  _ was being sincere,  _ but it came out sounding forced. He unintentionally grimaced at his own voice, hating how he couldn't convey emotions correctly, ever - emotions were complicated and icky, and something John hated. Paul, however, wasn't ashamed of all the emotions he felt, and always helped John to find the words he wanted to say. 

"Well you're obviously not," Paul sounded like he'd just drank the hottest cup of tea ever, considering the way his voice came across, "Since you don't love me anymore."

"I didn't- I-" 

"What, John? Mean it? Kind of sounds like you did."

Paul's sentence was cut off when he heard a sob, one that wasn't from him, and he looked at John over his shoulder, eyes softening when he saw the older crying softly. 

"I didn't mean it, Paul, I swear! I was- I was angry and I'm- I'm sorry."

Paul merely hummed and looked forward again, eyes glossing over with tears once more, "I don't believe you, John."

Something in John broke then, and he stared at Paul silently, letting the pain he'd been pushing away fill his heart and make his chest hurt. He let his arms hang helplessly at his sides, body completely still - and  _ then  _ he realised, Paul needed to be shown, not heard. He had to  _ show  _ Paul, instead of telling him. It had worked before, it could work again, he just had to do it right. 

John moved closer to Paul cautiously, not wanting to scare the younger into leaving him, and sat next to him. He wrapped his arms around Paul and pulled him closer, against his chest, where the younger sobbed. He sobbed against John and got his shirt wet with tears, body shaking with sadness and from the cold -  _ fuck _ , it was bloody freezing.

"I love you, Paul," John whispered to him, hands rubbing the younger's back comfortingly as he cried and trembled, "I'm sorry for what I said. Really, baby, you have to believe me, I didn't mean it. I didn't," A soft kiss to Paul's head told him that John was telling the truth, he had a gut feeling that the older wasn't lying - that, in fact, he  _ did  _ love him. 

"I- I know, Johnny," Paul replied, "I love you too…"

He leaned into John's touch even more, enjoying the security and warmth the older's hold gave him, the feeling of his lover's arms around him, hugging him tight, made him feel unbelievably safe. Loved. He felt loved.

"Should we get back to mine?" John suggested, moving to stand up, but was held down by Paul, who hugged him even tighter. The younger shook his head against the older's chest and moved to sit in John's lap, gazing into his eyes. 

"It's cold but- I want to stay." Paul replied verbally, kissing John slowly, "Will you love me always?" He asked. He waited for a response, but received nothing - instead, John stood up with Paul in his lap, holding him up around his waist, making the younger squeal in shock and excitement. He kissed him softly, open mouthed, tongues swirling together in a mix of passion and love - two emotions the two were fueled by while together.  _ Passion and love.  _

John pulled away from Paul and placed a kiss on his forehead quickly, "Always. Forever. All those words -  _ I love you." _

"I change my mind. I'm cold. Let's leave." The younger lay his head on John's shoulder and wrapped his arms around him to keep him up - he felt warmer now he was in John's arms, and his crying had ceased. Everything seemed to be okay for once. The emptiness had gone, and the dullness had gone, and the  _ ache  _ had gone - all that was left was a happy feeling within his heart. A feeling he only felt while with his Johnny. 

"Okay, baby, but I'll have to put you don't. Don't want people knowing we're queer, aye?" John went to put Paul down, but the younger tightened his legs and arms around him, kissing his neck and mumbling something against him. 

John sighed, "C'mon, Princess, we can cuddle when we get back, yeah? We can get into bed and cuddle under the warm covers." He reassured Paul. The younger blushed against him and reluctantly pulled his arms away from the older. He got to his feet and stood shakily next to John, taking his hand in his.

Luckily, nobody was around while they were walking back to Aunt Mimi and John's house hand in hand, sneaking discreet kisses whenever they could - it was just them, the sunset blessing the ground and everything else around them with a beautiful light. 

"You can be a dick sometimes, Johnny," Paul chuckled to himself, glancing at John from the corner of his eye. If he looked right at him, he'd burst out laughing, so he kept his eyes on the ground and glanced at him every once in a while. 

The older snorted in amusement and blushed, "I know, but you like my dick, Paulie." The use of the nickname Paulie made the younger want to kiss John again, but refrained out of fear - seriously, anybody could walk past or see them from their window and report them. He didn't want to risk it. 

This time, Paul blushed and squeezed John's cold hand, "You know what I meant!" He said in a higher pitched voice, slapping John playfully - the older made a noise of mock pain, laughing along with Paul. This was perfect. Them together, holding hands, laughing - this was all they wanted, ever. 

"I can't wait to get into bed," Paul breathed out, the crisp air starting to take a toll on his throat - whenever it was too cold, Paul would get a gravelly and sore throat. It was obvious that that had happened. 

John smirked, "You sound like you just sucked my-" 

"Shut up! You're disgusting," Paul grimaced but smiled nonetheless, cheeks bright red, from the cold and blushing, "But I love you."

"I know," Came John's curt reply from which he earned another playful slap, "I love you too, darling." 

A moment of silence passed, and then that silence filled with laughter and teasing remarks - soon, the warmth of John's house enveloped them, where they soon fell asleep together under the older's covers. Their legs tangled, Paul's head on John's chest, faint blushed still apparent on both of their cheeks, soft and even breathing escaping them - now, this, _ this  _ was love. 

_ This was love.  _

_ "I love you."  _ Paul smiled as he awoke from his sleep, remembering the day before, all the terrible events and then the great ones. 

_ "I love you too." _


End file.
